


Our Road Gets Better With Every Bend

by CouldntBeDamned



Series: I Feel the Love, And I Feel it Burn [6]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Sex, College Student Peter Parker, Domestic Discipline, Drinking, Fluff and Smut, Healthy Relationships, Insecure Stephen Strange, M/M, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter Parker is of legal age, Relationship Discussions, Stephen Strange is Also Dirty AF, Stephen Strange is a Softy at Heart, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29456499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CouldntBeDamned/pseuds/CouldntBeDamned
Summary: Peter's getting ready for his junior year at Columbia.  But before he goes back to school, there's the matter of his 21st birthday to deal with.  Which is inevitably going to affect The Rules he and Stephen have.  And what should be a nice night out for Peter's birthday takes a bit of a detour when a former acquaintance from Peter's freshman year unexpectedly runs into the happy couple.Stephen's not jealous.  No, not one bit.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Stephen Strange
Series: I Feel the Love, And I Feel it Burn [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987168
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Our Road Gets Better With Every Bend

**Our Road Gets Better With Every Bend**

* * *

  
The fall semester loomed.

Peter had mixed feelings on that fact.

He enjoyed school - he really did! But he lived on campus at Columbia and that meant that outside of the times the school closed for breaks and a handful of carefully selected weekends, Peter would be separated from Stephen the majority of the time.

He’d broached the subject of just commuting to classes with Stephen when he’d first come home for the summer. It had been a long discussion and Peter had reluctantly admitted that it was actually more conducive to his concentration to live on campus, where the rules didn’t loom over him. But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t miss Stephen terribly.

He had his books bought. (A scam if there ever was one. No book was worth hundreds of dollars, he maintained. Stephen, who’d written for textbooks used for medical schools and received royalties for doing so, had raised an eyebrow. “Seriously. Two words change and suddenly the price gets jacked up by a hundred dollars!”) He’d bought a few new shirts, pairs of jeans, and a pair of sneakers. He’d even broken down and didn’t fight when Stephen had presented him with the newest StarkPad, equipped with a holo-projected keyboard, specialized stylus, and protective case.

Aunt May had gone with him as he shopped, since she had an eye for quality and because even though he made insane money even as a part-time Avenger, Peter _hated_ spending money on himself. It was nice to spend time with her; she’d taken some time to warm up to the idea of Peter in a relationship with someone as old as Stephen. In fact, when Peter had moved in with Stephen there had been a period of a few months where they hadn’t even spoken to each other. He knew that Stephen had met privately with May, but he hadn’t asked for the details, just glad that she’d come around. 

May had spent plenty of their outing teasing Peter about his ‘man friend’ and the high life he had to be living in Manhattan. Peter had teased her right back about dating such a high-ranking employee of Stark Industries and asked how Happy was doing. They’d enjoyed a nice lunch before returning to the Sanctum. Stephen was away at Kamar-Taj, but Wong was there for a couple of days, so he’d conjured a portal to May’s place so she wouldn’t have to take the subway back to Queens.

Peter put his new things away in his bedroom, removing much of the temptation of starting to wear them before school started. Wong was in the library when Peter tracked him down, curious if he had any preferences for dinner. Wong had insisted that Peter didn’t need to cook for him but had graciously accepted when Peter told him that he’d be cooking anyways, and it was easier to cook for two people than for just one.

So, Peter threw a casserole together with tuna, peas, and noodles. Wong joined him at the kitchen table, and they talked about anything and everything. Peter had been especially delighted to hear more stories from Wong about Stephen’s early days at Kamar-Taj, where he’d made a fool of himself over and over before he’d finally fixed his perspective.

“He’s not going to be happy I told you,” Wong warned.

“He’ll get over it,” Peter said flippantly. “So… how long is he going to be away, do you know?”

“He’s overseeing current class of Novices as they attempt to pass into the ranks of the Adepts. He should be back in a day or so.”

“How come you’re not there with him?”

“Because one of the Novices is my niece and I can’t be impartial in this matter,” Wong admitted.

“I suppose that makes sense,” Peter said.

After cleaning up and putting the dishes in the dishwasher to run, Peter decided he’d play with his new StarkPad. He knew that Stephen had probably gotten a steep discount on it from Mr. Stark, but the gesture still warmed him. (Even if he’d rather Stephen not spent that kind of money on him.)

He went through the set-up quickly; the products that Stark Industries put out were ridiculously intuitive. He downloaded the student app from Columbia, and the apps his professors had emailed him that they’d be using for the semester. He was able to download copies of the syllabi and start plotting out his calendar. He tested out the keyboard, delighted that he’d be able to type anywhere he needed with the holo-projection.

Then he put some games on the tablet, syncing his accounts so he could keep his progress regardless of what device he was on. Gameplay was even faster than on his laptop, and since he found he could even holo-project a controller for the games (along with a note from Mr. Stark that read “You’re welcome, Kid.”), just as immersive.

It was, he thought, the best gift ever, and he was so glad he’d caved and let Stephen get it for him.

When Stephen got home, he was going to be getting one hell of a blow job.

Stephen had returned from Kamar-Taj while Peter was still asleep. Peter hadn’t even stirred or felt when Stephen joined him under the covers. (Of course, it was hard to be a light sleeper in Stephen’s bed, given that the sheets and blankets were almost supernaturally comfortable.)

But Peter did wake before Stephen and determined to make good on his promise to himself, decided to give him some incentive to wake up as well.

Peter toyed with the idea of moving Stephen’s boxers or just using the slit in them to pull out his cock. In the end, he went with the slit, just because it was easier and honestly, felt dirtier for some reason. He licked the head, delighted when he felt his prize start to harden. He kept licking for a few moments before suckling on the head and teasing the veined shaft with his hands. There was _so much_ of Stephen and Peter didn’t think he’d ever get his fill.

When he started taking more of Stephen’s cock into his mouth only to pull back to suck the head, hands buried themselves in his hair.

“Either do it properly or I’m taking over,” Stephen warned, voice still raspy with sleep.

Peter weighed his options.

He teased Stephen some more until the hands in his hair tightened their grip and began moving Peter’s head for him.

He relaxed his throat, grateful that he didn’t have a gag reflex thanks to the spider bite. He loved when Stephen got like this, dominant and sure of what he wanted from Peter. He let himself be used, knowing that Stephen would see to it that he got his own pleasure soon enough - Stephen was nothing if not a giver.

When Stephen’s thrusts grew sloppy, Peter pulled back so that he’d actually be able to taste the release. He swallowed as Stephen came with a loud groan, suckling until he was sure he’d gotten it all.

When Stephen’s grip loosen and Peter sat back, he noted with satisfaction how blissed out Stephen looked.

“That was a nice way to wake up,” Stephen said with a smile.

“Oh, you earned it,” Peter told him.

“And how did I do that?”

“You bought me the StarkPad,” Peter told him. “It’s amazing.”

Stephen let out a chuckle. “I didn’t buy anything. It was free, part of SI’s outreach to its medical consultants.”

“So, you regifted,” Peter stated flatly.

“You hate when I spend more than a hundred dollars on you, and I don’t need the damn thing. Believe it or not, I do know how to be thrifty,” Stephen said, sitting up.

“Cheapskate,” Peter finally joked with a grin. “And I just wasted a perfectly good blow job on that.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say you wasted it,” Stephen argued. He reached out and tugged Peter forward, wrapping his arms around him when Peter fell on his chest. “It was pretty spectacular.”

“Yeah?”

“Solid tens across the board,” Stephen said.

“Solid enough for you to take care of me in the shower?”

“I can take care of you _now_ ,” Stephen said.

Peter felt Stephen’s erection under him. He let out a happy sigh. “I love magic.”

“Enough to ride me?”

Peter bit his lip and nodded. He’d been working on his confidence, but still felt so self-conscious whenever he was on top. Stephen always assured him that he was magnificent while riding his dick, and hopeful that one day he’d believe it.

Stephen tossed the bottle of lube to him. “Give me a show?”

Now _this_ Peter was confident in.

He laid back, legs splayed and lifted his hips.

“Oh fuck,” Stephen breathed out.

Peter took as much time as he dared prepping himself. He coated a single finger in lube and circled his rim teasingly. He swirled it round and around before slowly pressing in. He worked it in and out, never going quite as far as he could, all in the name of giving Stephen show.

He slicked up another finger and again teased, pressed in. He split his fingers into a v, hoping Stephen had enough of a view, and twisted them. It had the desired effect and Peter drank in Stephen’s low groan like it was nectar.

“You’re so gorgeous, Peter,” Stephen said, eyes intent on Peter’s fingers - three of them now. “You’ve no idea.”

Peter continued to stretch himself out, playing with his hole and canting his hips.

“Can you take me?” Stephen finally asked, stroking himself.

Peter eyed Stephen’s monster of a cock. He felt himself clench at the sight and heard the breath Stephen sucked in.

“You’ll make me,” Peter said, rising up. “Even when I’m all stretched out you have to make me take you.” And _fuck_ he loved every second of it, loved every delicious inch Stephen filled him with.

He adjusted himself so that he was over Stephen’s cock. Before he could guide cock to hole, Stephen brushed away his hand. “Let me.” And Stephen used one hand on his lower back to steady him and the other to rest against Peter’s slick hole.

“Just let yourself feel, Darling,” he urged, moving his other hand to Peter’s side once his cockhead had breached him.

Even with the stretching, and the lube, and hell - gravity! - it was a formidable feat, sinking down on Stephen’s cock. He could _feel_ the tension in Stephen’s body, tightly coiled as he forced himself to not thrust up and pull Peter down. He had such incredible control, his Stephen.

“You could just pull me down,” Peter told him as he took in another inch or so. “You’re strong enough, so why don’t you?”

The look he received had his cock leaking and fire stirring low in his gut.

“Because I enjoy watching you struggle to take me.”

_Oh. Fuck._

He reached for his cock, and his hand was swept away. Magic.

“You’ll come just from this,” Stephen told him. “Another sight I enjoy.”

It was enough to draw a moan from his lips. His thighs trembled as he spread them further and let his body drop lower, down and down as he split himself on Stephen’s cock.

He was panting by the time he was fully seated. His thighs burned and he was just so… aware that Stephen was inside him, filling him.

Stephen grasped one of his hands, laced their fingers. He settled them on Peter’s abdomen and… _oh_.

“Can you feel me?” Stephen asked lowly. “How I stretch you, _mold_ you to take me?”

Peter nodded; eyes closed. He could feel it, feel _everything_.

There was a small smack to his thigh.

“Give me your words, Darling.”

“Yeah,” Peter finally said with a shudder. “Fuck, Stephen, I ju- fuck…”

“Ride me, Love. You know what to do.”

He did.

Slowly but surely, Peter moved and fell into a rhythm. It was hard and it called for muscles he otherwise only used as Spider-Man, but the sensation of rising up, feeling the length and girth of Stephen as he did so, only to lower again and somehow feel even tighter around him was incredible. And the way that Stephen looked at him, eyes hooded and filled with desire, made him feel powerful.

He tried different movements, changed how he angled his hips as he worked himself up and down on Stephen’s cock. His face flamed when Stephen encouraged him - “Use me, Peter. I’m yours.” Peter nearly collapsed onto him, though, when the stars aligned, and the angle ensured that _everything_ was perfect as he sank down.

“There we go,” Stephen told him. “Let me help you.”

His hands came to rest on Peter’s hips. With the gentlest of squeezes, he helped Peter find the angle again and again. Shocks of pleasure raced through him on every rise and fall and it wasn’t long before Peter came - untouched - with a cry.

“Absolutely stunning,” Stephen murmured. He took Peter’s cock in hand and stroked as if to make sure he got everything. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” Peter said with a sigh. “So good.” He leaned down to kiss Stephen.

Stephen rolled his hips and Peter gasped. “O-oh fuck! Do that again!”

“Mind if we move?”

“N-no! Please, just hit that spot again!” Peter encouraged.

“If I ever stop telling you how perfect you are,” Stephen said as he helped Peter off of him and onto his front. “That will be your sign that I’ve either been possessed or replaced by one of those fucking Skrulls.” He slid back in and Peter couldn’t even think of holding himself up on his hands; his face fell into the mattress.

“Yeah, okay,” Peter said after he turned his face so he could breath. “Got it. Now fuck me, please!”

Stephen did. He pulled back and drove back in, setting a pace that was just a degree past too rough. Peter didn’t mind; even at his most tender, Stephen never treated him like he was some fragile, breakable thing. No, Stephen pushed him into his pleasure while taking his own and Peter wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’ve missed this,” Stephen panted out. His hands roamed from Peter’s hips up his back and down under his front as he continued driving into him. “I’ve missed _you_. Even just a couple of days away is hell.”

“Makes this extra-worth it, though,” Peter answered. He pushed back into Stephen’s thrusts.

It wasn’t long before Stephen’s rhythm broke and with several harsh thrusts, he spilled himself inside Peter with a long, loud groan.

“I love mornings,” Stephen finally said, once they’d both caught their breath and were sprawled on the bed, limbs tangled. “I mean, not _every_ morning, but definitely the ones that include you.”

“Same,” Peter said. “These first few weeks of school are going to suck. At least I’ll be legal for the back-to-school parties.”

Stephen didn’t say anything at that, and Peter wondered if he’d said something wrong.

They pulled themselves out of bed and showered before going down to the kitchen to deal with breakfast.

“Did I do something wrong?” Peter asked when Stephen remained quiet while they ate.

Stephen’s expression softened. “No, not at all. I’m just thinking.”

“Bitcoin for your thoughts?” He tore into a piece of bacon. _So good,_ he thought.

“You’re turning twenty-one this week.”

“Yep!” Peter acknowledged cheerfully. “May said she’s been preparing for this since I turned eighteen. She already has my first drink planned out for the lunch she’s taking me to on Monday.” His smiled faded when he noticed that Stephen didn’t look nearly as cheerful. “You can come, too!” he added. “It’s just kind of a tradition in her family.”

“It’s not that,” Stephen said slowly. “But I do think we’re going to need to have a discussion on how your new legality will factor in with our rules.”

“I’m not going to be allowed to drink?” Peter asked. He put his fork down. Suddenly, food didn’t seem appetizing. “Seriously?”

“I didn’t say that,” Stephen said.

“It’s not like I’m planning on going on some bender and ending up in the hospital!”

Stephen gave him a look. “I’m very glad to hear that, and I’d appreciate it if you’d watch your tone.”

“It just feels like I’m having something taken away before I even got it.”

Stephen sighed. “I didn’t say you wouldn’t be allowed to drink, Peter. All I said was that we’d need to discuss how your drinking will fit in with our dynamic.”

“I can’t even get drunk,” Peter muttered.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said that I can’t even get drunk,” Peter said, voice clear.

“And how do you know that?” Stephen sounded suspicious.

“Because I went to high school and acted like any other stereotypical college freshmen that first semester,” Peter answered.

“How many times did you test this little theory of yours?”

Peter frowned. “Six or seven times. But none of it happened after we started the whole domestic discipline thing. After we added that, I figured it was covered under rule number two. So I didn’t. The closest I’ve come is to drinking is the mocktail nights the CU Food Bank puts on to raise money and the root beer keger parties the campus police sponsor.”

“Just how much did you drink, when you did?”

Peter shifted. “The first time, a six-pack. Then I tried vodka, then tequila, mixed drinks, everclear, whis-”

“Okay, I get the picture.”

“Are you mad at me?,” Peter asked after a few moments of quiet.

“No,” Stephen said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then wiped down his face. “No, I… I’m frustrated.”

“At me?”

“Mostly myself.”

“Why?” Peter asked. “I’m the one who’s unbearable.”

Stephen narrowed his eyes and Peter simply shrugged. “I’m mostly tolerable,” he corrected.

“I’m frustrated because it’s difficult to balance wanting to protect and take care of you while also letting you live your life. Too little concern and you’ll be reckless, too much concern and I’m controlling.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” Peter said after a moment. “I’m sorry for that. You’re never unreasonable about any of this. Most of the time.”

“Thank you,” Stephen said. Though he did shoot Peter a look that told him he was barely off of thin ice.

“Has anyone ever noticed that you don’t get drunk?”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t think so. Usually, they were pretty hammered by that point.”

Stephen was deep in thought for a few minutes. “We’ll finalize this later, but outside of your birthday, no drinking on school nights. It’s only two more years.”

Peter thought about it. “Fair enough.”

“Have you thought about where you want to go for dinner Monday night?”

He shrugged.

“That’s not an answer,” Stephen said.

“I just don’t know,” Peter said with a sigh. “Like, I kinda wanna go somewhere fancy, because you only turn twenty-one once, you know? But then, I don’t belong in fancy places, because I’m just a poor kid from Queens. But as much as I love our usual places, I want somewhere different. Somewhere special.”

Stephen’s expression was heart-meltingly soft. “Anywhere you pick is fine,” he said. “And you belong wherever _you_ choose to belong. Except for a drug den, obviously. But you’re not just a poor kid from Queens. Even without the impressive salary as a part-time Avenger, you’re so much more than you think you are.”

“You know, sometimes I get the feeling you think I’m pretty great,” Peter said. His face grew hot with embarrassment.

“One day I’ll get you to believe it, too.”

Peter couldn’t help it. He looked away. How could Stephen just _do_ that? Talk so sweet like that? When he’d been so _filthy_ in bed that morning? And had dressed him down with biting disappointment just the other week, sending Peter to his corner before later putting Peter across his knee?

“So. For dinner. Just uh, surprise me. I’m sure it’ll be perfect, wherever it is.”

“Alright then,” Stephen agreed.

Stephen’s choice turned out to be a moderately up-scale Italian restaurant in So-Ho.

From the look of the place, he’d picked just right, Peter thought.

They were led to a cozy little table in a corner and when Stephen gestured to the closest corner seat, Peter sat gratefully. He blushed with grin when Stephen sat in one of the seats next to him, rather than across.

The waiter handed them their menus and, at Stephen’s request, the drink menu.

Peter couldn’t help but roll his eyes (knowing Stephen would, in fact, let it slide because it was his birthday) as he produced his ID for the skeptical waiter.

“I know, I look twelve,” he said in a wounded tone. “Can’t even grow a mustache.”

“Got a cousin that way,” the waiter said as he studied the ID. “Tenured professor over in Montana, still gets asked if he needs help finding the right building on campus almost on the daily. Happy Birthday. I’ll give you both some time to look everything over.”

When they were alone - and a subtle but effective privacy spell cast - Stephen looked to Peter, amused.

“So, when you were breaking the law and recklessly experimenting with that spider liver of yours, what was your poison?”

“Not beer,” Peter said. “Tastes disgusting. I don’t like tequila either, or whiskey. I liked the Jungle Juice at some of the parties. And the fruit at the bottom. Oh, and I know it’s not alcohol, but some of the fruity mock tails I’ve had are pretty good.”

“You prefer sweet, then,” Stephen decided. “Trust me?”

Thinking about how he was spending his birthday with the person he loved most, he looked over at Stephen, and smiled. “Bet.”

Stephen sighed heavily, head dropping. “You’re such a fucking brat,” he said, looking up at Peter with fondness.

“Still love me though.”

Stephen ordered them both a glass of wine when the waiter returned, a dry red Peter didn’t even try to pronounce for himself and a sweet red for Peter.

Then he ordered the food, raising a brow at Peter when the waiter went to put in their order and retrieve their drinks. “You said my decision.”

“Technically, yes,” Peter said. “Since technicalities are apparently allowed tonight.”

“Peter,” Stephen warned lightly.

“Right, sorry.” Peter decided not to test Stephen’s good graces further. “So, you have a plan in place for next weekend?”

Peter was moving in at Columbia on Friday.

“I’m due at Kamar-Taj for what Wong calls my Annual Moping Tour.”

Peter snorted.

“I’m glad someone finds Wong funny,” Stephen said, just a little petulantly.

“You’ll get through it,” Peter assured him. “Like you said, it’s only two more years, and we have breaks and summer.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Then once I’m graduated, I get you all to myself, threats to reality aside.”

Stephen shook his head fondly. “You already have me all to yourself.”

Peter’s reply was interrupted by a waitress approaching, carrying a glass of wine in each hand.

“Pardon my interruption,” she said cheerfully. “I have the merlot.” Stephen made a gesture and she set it in front of him. “And the Brachetto d’Acqui.” She set the glass down by Peter and then did a double take before her pretty brown face broke into a dazzling grin. “Peter! Hi!”

Peter stared. She was familiar, he thought. Very familiar. Bright green eyes, smooth brown skin, and what he would swear was very curly and bouncy brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. So pretty. And the smile. He _knew_ the smile. Had been dazzled by it.

“Gabriella! How are you?”

She beamed. “I’m good! Graduating after this semester, actually.”

“Econ-Stats, right?”

“Supply, Demand, and Lying Through Numbers!” She laughed softly and winked at Stephen.

“Oh, sorry,” Peter said, finally processing the carefully blank expression Stephen wore. “Stephen, this is Gabriella. We met at Columbia when I was a freshman. Gabriella, this my uh, my boyfriend, Stephen.”

“Oh!” she gave Stephen a friendly up-and-down. “You’re a lucky one,” she told him. “Peter’s a real catch.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Stephen said, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” Gabriella smiled at Stephen, oblivious to his irritation. “Anyways, enjoy your drinks, and have a good evening!”

She walked off and Peter waited until she was firmly out of earshot.

“Really?”

“She’s more than a friend,” Stephen said finally.

Peter sighed. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Who is she, really?” Stephen asked.

“When we first got together, I told you I wasn’t a virgin,” Peter said. “That I’d lost it to a girl after a frat party. That was her.”

Stephen looked in the direction she’d went. “I see.”

“I told you, it was one time, and neither of us felt too great about it afterwards. I haven’t seen her since. She was probably just being friendly because it’s her job.”

“You’re right,” Stephen told him.

“Oh, that’s the best birthday present ever!” Peter teased, wanting the light-hearted Stephen from before they interrupted back. “You telling me I’m right!”

“Don’t get too excited, it just puts you in the same category as a broken clock.”

Peter frowned.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen said after a moment. “That was uncalled for.” He looked mildly embarrassed. “I’ll try to keep my jealousy to myself. Try your wine.”

Peter did, taking a sip of his and then closed his eyes as the flavor exploded on his tongue. It was sweet, yes, but it had a bite to it he liked.

“This is nice,” he said.

“You like it?”

“Yeah. It’s sweet, but not too sweet.”

“It should go well enough with the food,” Stephen said.

It actually did, Peter found out.

And they had a nice meal, the conversation was light, and they spent a lovely hour or so walking around So-Ho.

When they returned to the Sanctum, Peter had barely started to loosen his tie before Stephen was on him.

“Wha-!”

Stephen gathered him close, claiming his mouth with a fervor that had Peter’s head spinning. His back hit something soft and he realized that they were on their bed, and after a few seconds, their clothes were gone.

 _Magic._ Which Stephen usually loathed to be flippant with.

“She can’t have you,” Stephen growled against Peter’s throat. “I don’t care that she’s had you before, you’re mine, now.”

“ _Stephen!_ ”

He couldn’t get much out after that because Stephen’s mouth didn’t want to leave his. Long, scarred fingers seemed to be everywhere on him, stroking, with neatly trimmed and filed nails raking ever so slightly. Head spinning, tongue being sucked by his favorite person, Peter let himself be consumed.

Stephen rushed through stretching him, though Peter felt the tingle of magic and knew that rushed or not, Stephen was still thorough. He arched into the fingers that traced his rim, tried without success to get them _inside_ him in any kind of substantial rhythm. And the entire time, Stephen’s mouth only broke free to breathe before kissing him again and again.

There was little Peter could do but surrender to the fire that seemed to have overtaken his lover. Not that he wanted to do anything else. Under Stephen was his favorite place to be, after all.

When Stephen finally sank into him, his thick long cock forcing its way inside, he let out a pleased moan while Stephen actually _snarled_ as he bottomed out.

“ _Mine._ ”

Peter’s legs lifted to wrap around Stephen’s back as the older man began to move.

Stephen sucked deep marks on Peter’s neck, his clavicles, shoulders. As if that wasn’t enough, Peter’s hands were up by his head, pressed back into the pillow and unmoving.

“Perfect.” Nip. “Brilliant.” Kiss. “Gorgeous.” Lick. “Mine.”

“Yeah, of course I’m yours,” Peter managed. He was heading towards that floaty place that Stephen’s fucking so often sent him to. The force of Stephen’s cock driving into him, hitting _that_ spot had him keening.

“I won’t share you.”

“Ah!” Stephen continued to pound into him. “D-don’t w-want _fuck_ anyone e-else!”

It was last time Peter was in a state of coherent speech for a very long time.

When Stephen spilled inside Peter with a loud groan, he gathered some of the release on his fingers and drew his initials over Peter’s hip while swallowing his cock. Then he seemed intent on sucking out Peter’s soul through the act and had Peter begging and moaning for release. And when Peter had finally come, Stephen had taken Peter’s finger, messed it with the fluid, and used Peter’s finger to trace _P B P_ on his own hip.

And whether it was magic or just Stephen being his usual impressive self - Peter would never know - Stephen slid back inside and fucked him again.

Over and over, Stephen took him apart. Not just fucking him into another state of consciousness, but in the way he kissed him, sucked him, bit him, _worshiped_ him when all was said and done.

Mind floaty and body thoroughly sated and sore, Peter hummed in contentment, as Stephen stroked the hair back from his forehead.

“It’s good you’ve worked on that jealousy thing of yours,” Peter mumbled. “You’ve really grown as a person.” He didn’t even jolt at the swat on his ass.

“Have some water,” Stephen rasped out. He handed Peter a bottle of electrolyte-enhanced water.

“Only if you drink some, too,” Peter said, unscrewing the cap.

“Telling me what to do?” Stephen raised a brow.

“No, just trying to take care of you, too,” Peter said. “If _I_ need water, then you definitely do.” He smiled playfully up at Stephen. “Maybe some ibuprofen, too, for your back after that performance.”

“And here I thought you didn’t want a spanking on your birthday.” But his words held little heat and he grabbed his own bottle, drank.

Peter let himself be swept up in Stephen’s aftercare. He didn’t fight on the shower, or Gatorade, or light snack the man insisted they have. He did insist on changing the bedding while Stephen secured the Sanctum for the night.

He was waiting up when Stephen returned.

“Everything good?”

“Yes. All secure.”

“And what about you? Are you secure, now?” Peter asked.

“I’m sorry?”

Peter straightened where he sat up. “That wasn’t ‘happy birthday’ sex. That was more like ‘how dare anyone other than me have boned my boyfriend’ sex.”

Stephen’s cheeks flushed pink.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Peter continued. “It’s hot. But like, you have to know I’m not planning on leaving you, especially not for a one night stand I had more than a year ago.”

“She was flirting!” Stephen protested.

“Stephen, no waitress is ever _actually_ interested in any guy she’s waiting on. It’s all about getting a good tip!”

“She called you a catch!”

“I am!” Peter retorted. “She also said you were lucky to have me. And yeah, I agree. You do, too, unless you’ve just been saying that to get me naked.”

“Peter, I-”

“You knew I’d been with someone before we got together.”

“Knowing you that and having it thrown in my face are two different things,” Stephen said sharply.

“A chance run-in at a restaurant isn’t throwing it in your face. The same way your ex-girlfriend being my doctor isn’t throwing it in _my_ face.”

For a few moments, Stephen said nothing. Then he huffed out a sigh. “Well, now I feel like an idiot.”

“Hey, if I can’t call myself an idiot, then you can’t, either,” Peter said.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you during dinner or made you feel like I don’t trust you.”

“Only a little, but whatever. The sex was pretty amazing, so it evens out.”

It should have been early morning, when Peter woke up after they fell asleep together.

“Nope, I have time frozen,” Stephen whispered in his ear. “So, I can make sure you get proper ‘happy birthday sex’.”

Peter had no complaints as Stephen slid inside him. Or when his lover laced their fingers and slowly, reverently, fucked in and out. It didn’t stay slow; it rarely did. Stephen’s words this time weren’t of a need to possess, but of how much he loved Peter, how perfect he thought Peter was.

Peter moaned as he was brought over, stars blinding his eyes and lightning shooting through him in pure pleasure. And when Stephen all but collapsed on top of him, he held the man close and accepted the weight. “Love you.”

“I love you. Happy Birthday.”

It was during breakfast that Peter studied Stephen over his mug of coffee. (He’d had to beg for it; Stephen monitored his coffee intake strictly. In fairness, caffeine from coffee did things to him that carbonated caffeine didn’t. So, he got it. But also, sometimes he just wanted a damn cup of coffee.)

“I’m going to have to plan something pretty spectacular for November,” he said.

“Why?” Stephen asked. He speared a cube of fried potato and dipped it in ranch. _Gross_ , Peter thought. He loved the man, but the ranch thing was just gross.

“Because it’ll be your birthday,” Peter said.

“I don’t age,” Stephen said. “And, strictly speaking, I’m millions of years old already.”

“So, no candles,” Peter agreed. “But it will still be your birthday.”

“It’s a long time away,” Stephen assured him.

“Just a few months,” Peter countered. “A few months for me to plan everything out. And then? The sexiest Thursday ever.”

Stephen laughed. “Is it any wonder why I adore you?”

“I _am_ adorable.”

“Yes,” Stephen said. “You really are.”

Later, when Stephen asked how packing for school was coming along, (“You promised last week you would be working on it and have it finished by tomorrow afternoon.”) Peter froze and then stuttered out that he had most things in his room, ready to be put into boxes.

“Then we’ll take care of that and once we’re finished, you can go and stand in the corner.”

Peter sighed. Back to reality.

(It was still a pretty great reality.)

**Author's Note:**

> Another story in this little AU I have where Stephen and Peter are in a relationship with a **consensual and negotiated** domestic discipline dynamic. There are rules and expectations that are agreed upon by the both of them (not sexual in nature), as well as certain punishments (again, not sexual in nature) for breaking those rules.
> 
> Really, this is just a fun little bit of smut.
> 
> I have some more things planned for our favorite couple, with more drama and more punishments. But for now? Smut.


End file.
